H1N1
by nor do i
Summary: America gets a case of the swine flu. US/UK oneshot.


I wrote this...while I had swine. Haha. Swine sucks...

don't own hetalia. enjoy.

______________________

America sprawled over the couch, flipping through the channels. Oprah, The View, Dancing With the Stars...there was just nothing good on during the day. Every few minutes he would sniffle or let out a cough, usually followed by an irritated groan. He hated being sick more than anything. Worst of all, he was sick with the pandemic currently sweeping his nation...who names a flu virus after a pig, anyway?

It had started out like any other flu, just a sore throat and a fever. But progressively, it had begun to get worse. On top of that came a stuffy nose, headaches, chills, fatigue...the works. Normally, America was able to recover from sickness pretty quickly, but this wasn't just some regular sickness. This was swine flu. And swine flu was bad. Lots of people were getting infected, and a couple had even died. Letting out a long sniffle, he listened as his doctor made various phone calls in the kitchen, explaining to the other nations to stay away and to wash their hands after every meal. _So I'm being treated like a caged monster now, huh...?_

"This isn't fair! This stuff isn't supposed to happen to the heroes! The hero never gets sick!" America wailed to no one in particular. He pulled his blankets up farther, frowning at nothing. Being sick was so _boring._

As if on cue, just to ease America's boredom, he heard the front door open, swing, and close. A visitor? He perked up. There was the sound of stifled talking in the kitchen, between the visitor and America's doctor. America strained his ears, trying to listen through the closed living room door. There was more soft conversation for a couple of minutes, before the door began slowly creaking open.

"Sir, I have to ask that you not go in there, he's very contageous-"

"Relax, I'm not staying long."

England appeared in the doorway, scanning America's living room. He didn't look very worried, to America's disappointment. Shouldn't a guardian, past or present, worry about something they once cared for? Then again, the older country didn't exactly wear his emotions on his sleeves. He quickly strode over to the couch, looking Alfred up and down, flushed and covered in blankets. America tried not to look at England. _How embarrassing for him to see me like this_, he thought.

"Hey," England prodded. "Move your legs. I want to sit down." America sighed. Nope, no sign of concern for his well-being in that statement. He sat up, wrapping the blankets around him and sitting cross legged next to England, who sat rigid and stiff, as always.

"What brings you out here, Iggy?"

England folded his arms, glaring at America for pulling out the old nickname. "I just wanted to make sure...you...your country, I mean, wasn't in shambles or anything. Are you feeling better?"

Shrugging, America let out a cough. "Better, I guess..."

"You don't look better." England's parenting instincts kicked in, and he gently reached over America, putting his hand up to the younger country's forehead. America felt a small blush rise up in his cheeks, hoping that England would just think it was part of his fever or something.

"Jeez, I told you, I'm fine..."

"I know, just..." He opened his mouth to finish, but no words came out. "You still feel really warm," he said, quickly changing the subject. America blinked. Was that a hint of...compassion in England's voice?

They sat on the couch in awkward silence, England choosing to focus his eyes on the catfight going on in Jerry Springer. America simply bundled himself up in his blankets, trying to not look in the direction of the older country. Why did things have to be so weird between them? Why couldn't they just go back to the days of playing in England's yard or simply being able to be together without all of this...silence. Ever since he split from England, all America could hear was quiet when his elder was near.

"God, is this rubbish what you people call TV? Really, is there anything else on?" England huffed, grabbing the remote. He began channel surfing, keeping all of his attention on the TV. America watched him scowl at just about every channel he flipped to. Didn't he know that nothing good ever came on until at least five o' clock?

Finally, England settled on some horrible reality love show. He didn't seem to be very interested, but it was better than having the TV off altogether.

"So..." he began, turning his attention to the younger nation. "How do you think you...got this swine flu thing, anyway?"

"I don't really know. My boss said that it may have been from Mexico."

"Ah," England nodded. The silence continued, muffled by America's constant sniffling.

"Jesus, do you need a tissue or something?"

America nodded, and England stood up, quickly crossing the room to the box of tissues on the other side. Yawning, America laid back down on the couch. So much for an adventurous time with England. All this was was another bad visit. He watched the older nation move to the other side of the room, and pick up the box. A small blush couldn't help but spread across his features as he remembered all the previous times he had been sick in childhood. England had always been there, making him soup, or telling him stories...or those times when he had...

"Hey, England?"

"What?"

"...Will you come and...lay with me for a bit? Y'know, like you used to?"

England turned around, blinking. America could have sworn he saw a blush come over the older country's face.

"W-what? Why would I do that?"

"Because, Iggy, you always used to!"

"So?!" England snapped. "You're grown up now, idiot. How am I going to fit on a couch with you?"

"I don't know, but come on! What if I die from this flu and this is the last time you ever see me?" America threw his hands up in exasperation. Really, he just wanted to...lay with England. It wasn't like they were going to do anything...right? Right. They were just going to lie down on the couch and watch TV. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less.

"...Don't say that." Crossing his arms, England made his way back to the couch. "You're not going to die."

America rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I know I'm not going to die! Heroes don't die from the flu."

England squatted, coming face to face with the younger country. "Heroes can die from anything, you git. Now, are you going to move over or what?"

America blinked. Was England asking him...to move over? Move over, as in, make room on the couch for another body?

"You're actually going to do it?"

"On the condition that no one else ever finds out...ever."

A smile snuck up on America's features, and he gladly pressed his body against the couch, as England climbed on next to him. Not knowing where to put his hands, America awkwardly rested them on England's hip, much to the older country's distaste.

"What are you doing?"

"Where else am I supposed to put them? You're too fat." England huffed, making a remark about America and his hamburgers. America chose to ignore that remark, because England was finally lying with him. They watched the duration of the dating show, America drifting in and out of sleep. The last time his eyes were open, he saw the back of England's head, his gentle blonde hair looking polished and well-groomed, as it usually did.

England's eyes darted back and forth. America was breathing on his neck, letting out slow and soft breaths. Was he asleep? Not wanting to wake him, England turned his body as quietly as he could. He bumped into the younger country a couple of times, but he did not seem to stir. England studied his former country's features. His pink skin was now a sullen white, and even his golden hair seemed to have lost some of it's sheen. This flu was taking it's toll on him, and his people. Frowning, England gently brought a hand to America's face, tracing over his features.

"You know, when they first told me you got the flu..." England started, a blush coming across his face. "I was so worried. If something happened to you, who was going to watch over your country, and take care of your people? If something happened to you, do you know how out-of-sync the world would become? You git. I bet you don't even realize how...serious this whole thing is. If you don't get better...if you don't...I don't know what I'd do." Without hesitation, England gently pressed his lips against the younger country's.

As soon as he did, blue eyes snapped on, and America was grinning. England shot back, horrified. America just kept on grinning.

"Wow Iggy, I didn't know you cared about me so much."

The blush on his cheeks made England feel as hot as America's temperature. "Y-you bastard! You...didn't hear anything!"

America nodded, propping his head on his elbow. "Yep. I did."

England glared. "I...hate you!"

America laughed, pulling England closer and placing another kiss on his lips. "No you don't."

With and irritated sigh, England returned the kiss, letting his hands wander up America's chest, to his hair. They sat like this, a picture perfect moment.

"Hey, you know you're probably going to get the flu now, right? They're going to like, quarantine you and stuff!"

Pulling the blanket over the two of them, England snuggled into America's chest.

"If I could be quarantined with you, I don't think it would be...so bad."

The next day, he woke up with a sore throat and a fever.


End file.
